


and I am plagued by childhood traumas

by VeryCoolKid69



Series: vehement [2]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Depressed TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Depression, Dialogue Heavy, Exiled TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Gen, Inspired by Poetry, Parent Jschlatt (Video Blogging RPF), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, President Toby Smith | Tubbo, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Suicide Notes, THIS IS A SUICIDE CENTERED STORY PLEASE BE SAFE, Toby Smith | Tubbo Has Horns, Toby Smith | Tubbo Misses TommyInnit, tubbo thinks tommy is dead. hes not but they're both about to be.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:41:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28257108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VeryCoolKid69/pseuds/VeryCoolKid69
Summary: “So.. You’re alive?” He starts off simply.Tommy scoffs yet again. “Yeah. Not for long though, I don’t think.” Tubbo watches as he glances down to the lava with desire in his eyes, the most alive he’s looked all night. “I don’t really want to be here anymore Tubbo. Much too tiring.”Tubbo’s never related more.///Or, in which Tubbo and Tommy sit too close to a ledge.
Relationships: Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit, platonic ofc
Series: vehement [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2091294
Comments: 37
Kudos: 376
Collections: Completed stories I've read





	and I am plagued by childhood traumas

**Author's Note:**

> TW TW TW TW TW TW TW READ THE TAGS
> 
> I wrote this on a whim without checking it, sorry if it sucks. Just had an idea I really wanted to get out there. Definitely not my best work but ya know, what can you do.

Tubbo stares into the looming portal, the purple swirls spinning rapidly and making him dizzy. 

This was it. This was the end of President Tubbo.

Dream told them the news several days ago- Tubbo tried to go through the portal to visit Tommy, to tell him he missed him and to give him a hug, when Dream stopped him and solemnly told him that Tommy was dead.

Tommyinnit was dead. 

He thought it wasn’t true, swore it wasn’t, because his compass still worked, right? Still pointed to his Tommy.

Dream told him with a blank tone that it pointed to Tommy’s corpse. The compass disappeared the next day.

Tubbo felt guilty. He exiled Tommy, he never visited Tommy, he lost his compass that pointed to Tommy, he was supposed to plan the funeral for Tommy and instead he’s staring down a nether portal with shaky hands.

He’ll go out the same way, damnit. They died in harmonies of each other before, bodies slumped on eachother in a bunker, and later executed with a bow with an audience, albeit on different occasions this time around.

If Tommy fell into lava at his own accord, so will Tubbo. He’s always followed Tommy’s lead, anyways.

Finally, he got the will to step through the portal, the hot air of the Nether hitting his face instantly. He’s never liked to heat to be frank, so death by burning in lava was probably the most torturous thing he could think of. 

Good. He deserved it.

He squinted into the brightness of the Nether, the glowstone and fire and lava burning his sensitive goat eyes. His father was a curse he’d rather forget.

No one was going to be here, in the Nether. The Christmas party was today, and he called it off to ‘work’. He was alone, and he was going to die alone. No one was here to stop him.

Stumbling forward, he gripped a wall with a pounding head. Fuck, the bright lights hurt. Plus the neglect to his body was catching up on him. Grief does that to a person.

“-bbo?”

He shook his head. That couldn’t have been anyone. He was alone.

“Tubbo?”

No, fuck, wait. That sounded too familiar, too much like Tommy.

He cracked open his eyes to see a torn apart red and white shirt. Nope. Fuck that. He’s hallucinating. The-The heat must have been getting to him. Yeah. The heat.

Better get this over with then.

He shook his head, in an attempt to shake the hallucination off. Tommy was dead. Tommy was going to stay dead. Tubbo was going to follow. Tommy is dead.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

A hand gripped his shoulder, tightly, in the same way Tommy does. In the exact same way Tommy does.

His eyes fly open, to the dull and dead face of Tommyinnit.

He doesn’t know what to say. He-Tommy’s dead. This-This was his ghost, maybe, or he was still hallucinating, but to his knowledge hallucinations don’t touch you in the same way the living do, and Tommy doesn’t sound like a ghost, at least by his experience, which to be frank was only one ghost, but-oh fuck-

“Tubbo!” Maybe real Tommy shakes him out of his thoughts. His breathing is labored, heavy and hard, and he leans against the maybe Tommy. He doesn’t think a hallucination would be able to hold up his dead weight, so scratch that off.

Either Tommy is dead, or Tommy is alive. He doesn’t know which one is worse.

He glances up, wide-eyed at the scowling face of Tommy. “You fucking here to stop me or some shit? To finally come save me?” He scoffs, “Of course you try to play the hero last second.”

Tubbo doesn’t have the energy to comprehend what that means. “Tommy?” He whispers weakly, only to be dropped onto the cobblestone path.

He pushes up himself to see Tommy walking away, to a log path that stretches over the deep lake of lava. Stumbling to his feet, he jogs behind him, until they’re both standing at the edge of a thin wooden path. It barely fits the two of them, and when they sit down, they’re shoulder to shoulder.

It’s a cruel mockery of the wooden bench they used to rest at, sitting shoulder to shoulder for comfort in times of war. 

The memory makes him hum the familiar tune of Cat, only to be aggressively pushed by Tommy. He almost teeters off the edge, not that he would mind, but he leans back into Tommy and manages to not fall to his death.

The shock must’ve not faded off yet, because normally he would be crying with joy that Tommy was alive. Now he’s just tired.

“So…” Tubbo starts, unsure of where to begin. A million questions runs through his mind, questions of ‘how have you been,’ ‘how are you alive,’ ‘why did Dream lie?’ 

“So?”

“So.. You’re alive?” He starts off simply.

Tommy scoffs yet again. “Yeah. Not for long though, I don’t think.” Tubbo watches as he glances down to the lava with desire in his eyes, the most alive he’s looked all night. “I don’t really want to be here anymore Tubbo. Much too tiring.”

Tubbo’s never related more.

“I don’t think you should,” He says, as if he didn't come here with the same purpose.

Tommy stares at him with dead eyes. He knows Tommy sees the envelope in his hands, and he knows that Tommy recognizes the same dead look in Tubbo’s eyes.

Tommy ignores his sentence. “What’s in yours?” He gestures to the envelope, and Tubbo flushes. He’s too casual about death, but war does that to you.

“It’s-” He holds the note close to his chest, embarrassed. “It’s boring. Stereotypical. Apologizes and I love you’s and stuff like that.”

Tommy rolls his eyes, a faint smile on his lips. That makes him feel a tiny bit better.

He gestures to the whole book Tommy is holding. “Yours?”

Tommy throws him the book with little care. He fumbles with it for a moment, getting a good grip on the clearly homemade book. He left with so little, and lost it all, of course he had to make it himself.

“At first I was like ‘perhaps I’ll write a book of all the great shit I’ve done.’ So I could make you guys feel bad for not noticing.” Tubbo huffs a laugh, it was such a Tommy thing to do.

He opens the book, thumbing through it. It’s all empty, completely blank.

He shoots Tommy a confused look. He flushes the same way Tubbo did, glancing away. 

“..I couldn’t think of anything,” He mumbles quietly. “So I was gonna write exactly how this whole exile thing made me feel. But the paper stayed empty. I couldn’t-” He takes a deep breath. “I couldn’t describe it better, to be honest. It’s weird. Some days I feel everything, all at once. Like I’m drowning under the waves. And then-most days-I feel nothing at all.” He glances back at Tubbo, with a sigh. “I don’t know what’s worse. I feel like I’m dying from thirst those days.”

Tubbo doesn’t understand the way he feels, but he nods anyway.

“I drank poison those days. To feel something.” He pauses. “In a metaphorical sense. Sorry. Wilbur’s been getting to me,” He huffs a half laugh. “I thought of you. Remembered us before everything. And it hurt, but it worked. It made me feel something. I haven’t felt real in a long time.”

It hurt that Tommy used him to hurt himself.

“I…” Tubbo starts. His pain is different. He doesn’t know how to describe it. “I’m afraid of what I’m becoming.”

That gets Tommy’s attention.

“What do you mean?”

“I feel like him,” He hisses out the last word. He knows Tommy knows what he means. “Phil-Phil told me I was just like my father when I tried to kill Techno. I don’t want to be like him, Tommy. Do you think I’m like him?” There’s a silent plead in his words, a desperate call for reassurance. 

Dead men don’t lie though, and Tommy hesitates. 

He gets his answer in that moment.

“...Oh.” He knows it’s true. They’re both living someone else’s story, playing someone else’s character. Tommy is Wilbur, and Tubbo is Schlatt. Tommy is Theseus, and Tubbo is the kingdom that threw him out. 

“I miss..” You. “...the SMP before the wars.”

Tommy nods in agreement. Back when they were just kids. They still are, technically, but they don’t feel like it anymore. They fought the war, and the war won.

“We’ll never be those kids again.” Tubbo knows. God, Tubbo knows.

“It’s fucked up. I hate them all for that,” Tommy spits. “They made us into weapons, and threw us aside after and told us to find peace. Told us to be subtle about it.” He grips the logs with a knuckle white grip, anger flooding into his face. “I wasn’t fucking born to be subtle!”

His fist collides against the log, shaking the small platform they were balanced on. Neither of them made any move to hold on.

“...Sorry,” Tommy mutters.

“It’s okay. I hate them too.”

Another beat of silence passes between the two, the bubbling of lava echoing up to them.

Tubbo breaks it. “If-If I said you could come back, would you?”

Tommy whips towards him, eyes wide and hopeful for a mere moment, before falling into a hardened gaze again. “No.”

“No?”

“No.” He nods, with such certainty Tubbo isn’t sure he can convince him to come back. “I’m becoming less interesting. Everyone’s noticing. I wouldn’t fit in anymore.”

“No!” Tubbo blurts, too loud and too fast. “We all miss you Tommy, you’d fit in fine!” He rambles on, ignoring his outburst. Deep down he knows that Tommy wouldn’t, but he can’t admit that yet. He can’t admit that this story wouldn’t have a happily ever after. He can’t admit that this wouldn’t be perfect in the end.

Tommy clearly knows he’s lying too, but makes no comment. “I wouldn’t. With each passing day I can feel my potential rotting away into nothing. I’d be a shell.” He already was. “You should go back though. You seem better than you were before.”

“I’m not.” Tubbo knows he’s not better. Fireworks plague his mind in his sleep, horns sit heavy on his head everyday, Wilbur haunts the town he lives in. Techno’s face is plastered on every wall, Dream stalks through town every day, and he’s president like the two psychos before him. Everything that has hurt him surrounds him. “Everyone thinks I am, but I’m not. I’ve gotten better at hiding it though.”

Tommy nods. Seems he understands too.

“And here you are, living despite it all.”

Tubbo’s turn to scoff. “Not for long.”

“You did for a while.”

“I thought my purpose-my job was greater than my pain. That I could, and even if I couldn’t, then I have to. Then you-” He chokes for a moment, thinking of when Dream emotionlessly told him that Tommy’s corpse was rotting away in exile. “Then I decided that I wanted to die.”

Tommy sends him a look. “By lava? I thought you hated the heat.”

Tubbo nods. “I wanted to die in a field, at first. Have flowers grow in my bones and feed the bees.” Tommy snickers to himself. “But I decided to go this way instead.”

“Why?”

Tubbo shrugs. He should probably tell Tommy the truth, but he’s too fucking tired. “More painful, I guess. The worst way to go. Thought I deserved it.”

Tommy looked offended. “You don’t!”

“Neither do you.”

A standstill. They stared each other down, both committed to falling into the pit.

Tommy looks away first. “...Why do you want to save me? What’s the reason?”

“You don’t need a reason to save people.”

“When it’s me you do.”

Tubbo smiles. “Not to me.”

“I can’t live forever, Tubbo.”

Tubbo sends another sad smile in his direction. “I’m not asking you to live forever. I’m asking you to live while you’re alive.”

They both scoot a little closer to the edge, feet dangling. Tommy’s one shoeless foot and Tubbo’s neat suit shoes.

“I think we both know how this ends,” Tommy whispers, all too quiet for the loud boy. His empty book sits behind him, as wordless as him. Both uncharacteristically empty.

“Yeah.” Tubbo glances down. “I’ll miss you.”

Tommy leans back, staring at the netherrack ceiling. “Yeah. Doesn’t really matter, though, does it? The dead don’t weep.”

Tubbo copies. “You’ve really had a way with words tonight.”

Tommy leans towards him, his hand in Tubbo’s brown hair. “Yeah. Sometimes. Sometimes they have their way with me, though.”

Another beat passes.

Tubbo takes his chance. “I love you.”

Tommy scoffs, but smiles. “God, you’re such a soft thing. No one knows what to do with you.”

Tubbo smiles, and takes Tommy’s hand. It’s time.

Wordlessly, they both stand up, back to back. The platform is much too small and much too weak for their bodies, but they’re both just skin and bones.

They tip forwards, and then they’re falling, falling, falling. Hand in hand, arm in arm, and they’re smiling, and they’re-

Footsteps echo from above, along with shouts. They’re falling too fast to care, until glass shatters against their backs and the sickly sweet scent of magma cream and nether wart fills the air, and orange particles in their vision.

The lava’s much too cold to kill them.

**Author's Note:**

> Me: I'm gonna write either a wholesome ghostbur and eret interaction or a angst fundy and dream interaction next!
> 
> Me: 
> 
> ahusuhshw sorry to anyone who's subbed to me, this is not my usual content


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